


Stormy

by A_Study_In_Johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson Takes Care of Sherlock Holmes, M/M, No Dialogue, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 07:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10458579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Study_In_Johnlock/pseuds/A_Study_In_Johnlock
Summary: On some nights when Sherlock can't be calmed, John extends his help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope you all are having a great day.

Some nights, when Sherlock was feeling especially wound up–when he’d been spewing cruel deductions at the entirety of Scotland Yard for being  _ idiots _ –when he was pacing their flat here at 221B muttering something about  _ if you want it done correctly, do it yourself  _ along with some interesting expletive slurs towards the criminals in London, John would watch him with interest. On these nights, Sherlock couldn’t be still, wouldn’t stop pacing, refused to be calmed, a storm in his green-grey eyes.

Some nights, John would see his detective in this state and he’d walk past Sherlock, laying his hand on Sherlock’s lower back. Somehow, it’d become their universal language for John taking control. Sherlock stopped short as soon as he felt the weight of John’s hand pressed to his back, the warmth it emitted.

_ John. _

John didn’t have to pull Sherlock along; he would follow. He stepped into the darkness of their room and crossed the room to turn on the lamp, casting a dim light across everything. He turned to see Sherlock stepping unsurely into the room. That was how it went: it was up to John to calm Sherlock’s brain, to slow the brilliant man down long enough to breathe, and he would do just that.

The older man didn’t have to say anything; the look in his eyes portrayed enough as he sat on the end of their bed and gazed back at Sherlock with expectancy.

Sherlock’s hands tremored slightly as he began to unbutton his shirt. John noticed Sherlock’s breathing grew heavier as it slid off his shoulders. John could look at Sherlock’s body forever–the perfection of his alabaster skin, the way his dusty rose cupid bow lips stood out along with the same rosy nipples–all the same colour as Sherlock’s cock. John beckoned the other man forward and showed his definite appreciation of Sherlock’s body by brushing his thumb down Sherlock’s plump bottom lip, gasping as Sherlock’s tongue peaked out to taste him. John brushed his thumb over Sherlock’s right nipple, eliciting a whimper from younger man. He didn’t want to spend too much time torturing Sherlock, so his hand drifted down the man’s chest, past his stomach, towards the waistband of his trousers. 

John’s hand drifted over Sherlock’s covered cock, pleased to find him hard. John’s discovery hardened him even further. 

He undressed Sherlock the rest of the way and when Sherlock stood bare in front of him, John gestured towards the bed–in which–Sherlock laid back onto their bed, looking up at John through cloudy eyes.

John pulled his own clothes off and could see Sherlock’s hands clutching, wanting to touch him. John knew that while Sherlock was the most observational man in the world, he was the only person who could observe Sherlock’s body, read his every move and want–the thought empowered John. He watched Sherlock spread out on the bed before him and John knew there was nothing he wanted more, in that moment, than to feel Sherlock come undone under him.

John climbed onto the bed with Sherlock and, for the first time that night, kissed the beautiful man under him. Their lips dragged together slowly, sensually before John ran his tongue along Sherlock’s bottom lip, begging for entrance. Sherlock granted immediately, welcoming the taste of John, moaning into the older man’s mouth.

John’s hips met Sherlock’s and the detective cried out as their cocks brushed together. John could make Sherlock come this way, but he wanted to make his mad genius forget his stress. Unwillingly, he pulled back from Sherlock and reached over into the nightstand drawer, pulling out the tube of lube.

Sherlock’s lust blown eyes met John’s, his curls falling just above his eyes. John didn’t think the man could get any more beautiful until he watched as the detective’s head fell back onto the pillows before gently splaying himself out for John. There was a pleading in his green grey eyes that John would never deny him of.

Sherlock was so beautiful, laid before him like this in acquiescence, as if saying  _ I’m yours.  _ John dipped his head down to brush his lips along Sherlock’s skin–the warm expanse of his neck, along his jaw. John sucked a bruise into Sherlock’s alabaster skin and continued his way down Sherlock’s body, leaving more love bites as he went. As he settled between Sherlock’s thighs, he pressed his lips to the inner lining of Sherlock’s thighs and, then, up the length of his cock.

Sherlock gasped at the sensation before moaning at the feeling of John’s tongue pressed against his perineum. John drifted lower, uncapping the tube before spreading some of the lube onto his fingers. John started with his index finger, gently rounding the rosy pink bud, watching as Sherlock relaxed beneath him. John sank a finger into Sherlock and watched as his hole slowly swallowed up the entirety of the digit. 

John thought Sherlock looked so perfect like this before kissing Sherlock’s hip. John began to gently thrust his finger into Sherlock, the detective’s hips pushing down in order to meet John. He put a hold on the younger man’s hips and Sherlock’s head shot up, his eyes meeting John’s.

_ Please.  _

John added another finger, watching as the digits sank into Sherlock to the hilt. He began scissoring his fingers, stretching Sherlock wider, purposely avoiding his prostate.

Sherlock began to whine by the time John had added a third finger, making sure he was stretched enough for his cock. The detective began making noises in the back of his throat as if he were being tortured. Then, John granted Sherlock mercy by finally brushing his prostate. 

It was as if a dam had broken and a litany of words broke free from Sherlock’s lips. Yet, they were all the same–a name– _ John.  _ John.  _ Only John. _

John removed his fingers and coated his cock with lube. Sherlock watched him through heavily lidded eyes before bracketing his legs on either side of John’s hips. John leaned down to press his lips to Sherlock’s as he slowly pushed into Sherlock, inch by mind blowing inch.

Sherlock groaned underneath him as John buried himself within Sherlock to the hilt. Sherlock’s hands grasped John’s face, looking into his eyes. John immediately understood.

John took Sherlock’s wrist and pinned them over the detective’s head as he leaned down and covered  Sherlock so that there was no space between them. Their eyes never left each other’s as John thrust deeply within Sherlock. A surprised whimper fell from Sherlock’s lips as John began to fuck Sherlock hard and slow. With each thrust, John made their headboard slammed against the wall, but he made no motion to speed up. He wanted Sherlock to feel every inch of him, hitting his prostate on each thrust.

Sherlock’s head flew back as his hands twitched to touch himself.  _ Please, please. _

But this was the only thing John wouldn’t allow. He wanted Sherlock to come from his cock alone, wanted to render the man unable to think. Sherlock wanted it fast and rough, but John would take him slowly and relentlessly.

Sherlock’s thighs trembled as John pushed into him harder, his hands clutching at John’s at the sound of their thighs meeting, filling the room along with their intermingled breaths. It didn’t take Sherlock long before he reached his peak, before he couldn’t take it anymore. Sherlock wanted to close his eyes against the onslaught of emotions, the feeling of John’s hips slowly dragging against his, burying his cock within him with each deep thrust, but he couldn’t look away from those blue irises, like a dark, endless sea he could lose himself within. Even as he felt the inevitable approaching, when he felt the tightening in his bollocks, he cried out John’s name and John’s name only before coming harder than he ever had in his life, untouched.

It was seemingly endless as his cock spouted copious of cum between their bodies, John milking him for everything he had. 

John came soon afterwards, his orgasm washing over him like relief as his arms shook with the power of it. John released Sherlock’s wrists and those long, pale fingers came up to run through his hair. John groaned into the expanse of Sherlock’s neck until he felt Sherlock’s breathing slow into long, even breaths.

The storm was over.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please leave me a comment to let me know what you liked. If you hated it, please let me know what I did wrong.  
> ~Thanks for reading!


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